


Wicked Game

by thealmightynoodle



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Mental Health Issues, POV Third Person, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prostitution, Smoking, arthur just really gets attached, especially women, switches pov from time to time, to people who are even remotely nice to him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealmightynoodle/pseuds/thealmightynoodle
Summary: After a pretty woman helps Arthur from getting too beaten up by a gang of kids, Arthur can't help but think he has met an angel. He'd never dreamed that he'd meet somebody like her.Now he doesn't want her out of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've posted in literal YEARS and I'm very rusty when it comes to writing by myself. I'm used to roleplaying with friends. So please forgive the choppiness and rush in the beginning. Hopefully it gets better the more I write and get back into the groove.

The air was cold and thick with the stench pollution and nicotine. Puffs of cigarette smoke hardly saved her from the rancid odor of the trash that piled in the alley due to the city's garbage strike. As much as she hated the ways they were doing it, there was no denying that something had to be done to bring attention to how shitty the working class citizens were being treated. And Gotham City's workers were getting bolder. Taking things into their own hands for that change that they wanted-- no, _needed_. Everything about the city was horrid, from the jobs to the people and even to the pest infestations. It needed to fucking change.

Even the kids of the city were shitty. She turned her head to watch the group of laughing pre-teens turn down the alley she occupied, one slipping quickly into a corner to avoid, she assumed, the clown that came zipping by, after the size of his ridiculous shoes caused him to trip. He was only down for a second before he was back on his feet and running down towards the kids. And... then he was down again. Knocked out by a yellow sign in the hands of the hidden brat. Within seconds, the gang of little shits surrounded the clown, sounds of the collisions their shoes were making with his body made her cringe.

Throwing the nub of a cigarette on to the damp asphalt, the woman dug into the small purse she kept at her side. Her hand gripped the familiar metal. Now, _usually_, she didn't care too much what happened around her. She was a smaller woman so she couldn't always come to the rescue of every person she ever saw getting mugged, but this was a frail looking clown getting his ass kicked easily by some underage rats. Something could be done about this one.

"Hey, you little shits," she announced as she walked calmly over to the group. Surprisingly, they stopped. "Beating up a clown doesn't make you look any tougher."

"What do you care, _bitch_?" One of them maliciously responded. He had long hair kept in a loose ponytail and a rather nice looking leather jacket. He was also the one to bring the clown down. Must have been the leader of the posse.

From her purse, she produced a small hand pistol. She kept it on her person for protective reasons-- after all, a woman of the night in Gotham needed all she could get to keep the creeps at bay. And like roaches in the light, the boys immediately fled-- screaming curses-- at the sight of the weapon. She didn't even have to cock it or take off the safety. Perhaps it was a little low to pull out a gun on some rowdy delinquents, but she certainly wasn't going to take any chances of them trying to get violent on her, seeing as she wasn't the biggest or strongest against a group. Even if they were just kids.And they were already beating up a clown. She would have been easy.

As she put the small pistol back into her purse, the sound of her heels on the concrete overpowered the sound of the crumpled clown's whimpering and coughs until she knelt next to his body. He was pitiful. His arms placed to protect his head and genitals from suffering too much from the blows he received. She could only imagine the bruises he was going to receive. "Can you get up?"

** *** **

The sound of her voice was absolutely heavenly. He had heard it earlier as she came to his rescue, and even with the annoyance that laced her tone it had sounded better than anything else he had heard all day. And despite the pain that riddled his muscles and organs, he attempted to hoist himself to, at least, a sitting position on his knees. He could feel the warmth of blood dripping from his nostrils as he rose, and he forgot all about how much he liked to keep his sleeves clean as he used it to wipe blood and paint from his nose. Only then did he let his eyes look in the direction of his savior.

Arthur wasn't sure if _God_ existed, but this woman sure did look like an angel to him. Her lips, full and ruby painted, were the first thing he noticed. He couldn't help but imagine her smile, how it would brighten a room with just how beautiful it would be. Next her cheeks, poreless and tinted pink from either her rouge or the nippy Gotham air. Then her nose, small and, quite frankly, adorable. And lastly her eyes, almond-shaped and a radiant bluish-green hue, lined with charcoal makeup. All framed by beautifully voluminous chestnut locks that she secured in a loose, side ponytail that rested over her shoulder. Even knelt down, he could see how tight and short her little red dress was against her body. Though, the faux fur coat she had on made it difficult to tell, but he was certain that the dress was sleeveless. 

Next to her, he felt like a **fool**.

"Are you all right?" She asked him, her dainty hand resting on his shoulder. The contact and concern in her voice made the chortling bubble up in his throat, nervously trying his best to swallow the sounds though it only made the laughter come out sooner, paired with coughs. Frantically, he began to shake his head. _Nonononono_\-- she was going to hate him, think he was some sort of _freak_! His card-- where was it? _Where, where, **where?**_

Between the laughs, he began digging through his pockets and failing to say apologies. It had to be somewhere. Then bony fingers met the laminated plastic, and he couldn't get it out any quicker than he did. Hand shaking as he reached out to allow her to take the card, since throwing it at her would be rude, Arthur used his free hand to cover his painted mouth. And as soon as she took the card from his hand, he allowed himself to punch the ground beneath him, hoping the pain in his knuckles would help cease the laughter. It helped, but not much. Only turned the guffawing into wheezing.

But the woman never took her hand from his shoulder. When he took a moment to glance her way, he noticed she had stopped reading the card and just watched him-- waiting for him to calm down. And eventually, he did. And he was finally able to breathe out, "Thah-- thank you, for... helping me."

"Guess I needed to do one good deed for today," she told him, her voice like music in his ears. "You looked like you needed it."

He could do nothing but nod, feeling small, despite the fact that even hunched over he could tell that if they both stood, he would be bigger than her. As she stood, she offered her hand to him. After a moment, and a sigh from her, he finally took it. She was surprisingly sturdy, keeping her ground well in those heels while pulling him to his feet. For a moment, he ignored the pain that shot through his body and allowed his mind to drift to her in much less than what she was currently wearing, but the heels remained. But not there, not in the alley. No, in a chilled room, where her bare skin would develop little bumps underneath his touch. Those beautiful eyes would look at him like he was the only thing in the world. Her hand would come up to eye level, his white card between her pretty fingers-- _no, wait_, that wasn't quite right.

He had to blink himself back to from his fantasy. The card, however, was there between her index and middle fingers. "Never heard of this condition before," she told him, giving him a moment to timidly take the card from her. "How long have you had it?"

"All my life," he replied. As long as he could remember, he laughed. If he wanted to cry, he would laugh. If he wanted to scream, he would laugh. If he wanted to speak how he felt to strangers, he would laugh. That was, after all, why his mother called him "_Happy_." _He was always such a happy boy..._ "Or as-- as long as I can remember."

Her eyebrows raised in something like curiosity. He did his best not to let his eyes linger on her for too long, in case he came across as creepy to her. His hand reached up to his head to take the silly green wig off, feeling how lopsided it was from his fall. "Is that why you work as a clown, then? Since you can't control your laughter?" He really couldn't tell if she was making fun of him. Or, at least, if she was, the smile on her face as she spoke made him not care so much if she was. All he could do was nervously chuckle and avert his eyes downward. "It's fitting. Though, maybe you should learn to be a little more off putting, so kids won't want to beat the shit out of you."

"Oh-- no, I don't-- I don't want to," he started to say, though, when he thought about it... It wasn't such a bad idea. Most people didn't really seem to like clowns-- like they were scared of him. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to be scary..._ No, **no**_, he didn't want that. He didn't want to scare people, he wanted to make people _happy!_ To make them laugh, make them _smile_! "I shouldn't have chased them. I should have left them alone."

"Maybe so," the woman said with a shrug. "Just take care of yourself, sweetie."

Something about the way she said "sweetie" made him feel... much better. It brought him to smile. Though, he would rather hear her say his name.

"My name is Arthur."

Her lips formed such a pretty half smile, and she reached out to pat his arm. "Take care of yourself, Arthur."

It was beautiful. The way she said his name-- it made his head spin. Or maybe that was just from the kicks of those kids. No, it was certainly from her. Though she was gently pushing past him, he couldn't help but look her way as she left. "Wha-- Wait!" He didn't want her to leave yet-- but he really couldn't bring himself to stop her or ask her to stay. Why would she want to stay in some garbage littered alley anyways? Maybe he could just meet her again, at a better time and a better place. He waited for her to turn back to him. "May I have your name? Please?"

She paused for a moment, looking him over, and must have decided that she would oblige him. Walking back to him, her hands fiddled in her thin, faux fur coat, until she produced a small white card, not unsimilar to his own. Though hers was not laminated. It was slightly textured and had fine, black lettering and a phone number on only the front.

_For a good time, ask for Anni. _

_ **xxx**_

Flashing him another smile, the woman then turned to make her leave. "Maybe I'll give you a discount," she shouted to him, as she sauntered away. Her hips swaying as she walked. Those heels certainly made her walk more appealing. And it wasn't until she rounded the corner, finally out of his sight, did he look down at the card again, trying to memorize the phone number left on the card. He really, really wanted to see her again. And again. But he had never hired a prostitute before... Hell, he wasn't even sure if he could. Would he chicken out? Would his condition flare up? He had never even... What if he made a fool of himself in his ignorance? Shaking his head, Arthur pushed those thoughts to the back of his head and put her card in the opposite pocket as his card. 

There was always a_ first time_ for everything. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I rushed through this chapter as well and it gets a lil nasty. It's a bit short, but kind of explicit.

_Brrrt._

  
The sounds were driving him mad.

_Brrrt._

Would she pick up? What would he say if she did?

_Brrrt._

He couldn't use the stupid script he had made up to keep from freezing. Again.

_Brrrt._

He already hung up on her once-- a few hours ago when she had finally picked up in the dead of night.

**_Brrrt._ **

  
The high pitched clash echoed throughout the kitchen as he slammed the phone down, half in frustration and half in anxiety. In his head, Arthur had thought of what to say to her-- how to ask her for... well, sex. Sure, she was a prostitute but he didn't really want to offend her. She was kind enough to him when they had met the day before, and he hoped she would be just as kind when they met again. Only with less clothes on.

Maybe he should have left a message. So she could know who it was, so she could call him back when she was free and able. When she wasn't... working. But, no, every time he had attempted in the six times he had called her, he felt his voice catch in his throat from just trying to say "hello." Laughter had threatened to seep through his teeth if he hadn't hung it up.

_He was a fucking loser._

Taking a deep breath, Arthur once again picked up that old, off white phone with his sweating hand. Bony digit pressing each of the numbers in sequence that he had eventually memorized. And the familiar ( and slightly obnoxious ) tone rang in his ears-- _brrrt. Brrrt. **Brrrt.**_ He stared blankly at the phone for what felt like half an hour before the noise was interrupted by a much, much lovelier sound.

"Hello?"

Her voice was strained and a bit raspy. Arthur assumed it was due to potentially waking her up. It wasn't even eight in the morning and he should have known her job would keep her up at night. He felt like he should have been a little more considerate. He had called her so many times... He just forgot to be courteous.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" She was tired. The impatience and irritation in her voice made it evident.

"He-_aaa_\--" Arthur began, a breathy laugh coming out instead of any coherent words. Both hands were clutching the phone as he bent over, almost as if he was attempting to curl into himself from the embarrassment he was causing himself.

"I'm hanging up."

"NO!" That certainly got him to straighten up. "No, please! It--it--it--it's me, Arthur." His voice was nearly shaking with some form of desperation that he didn't really want to admit that he had. Definitely didn't want her to hear it, but how could she not?

She repeated his name back to him, confusion laced in the way she spoke it. She couldn't have forgotten him already...? No, no, she was just tired. "Arthur...? Oh! Oh, the laughing clown from the alley."

She didn't forget after all.

He grinned. Her tone was much less annoyed and more soft. "Yea--yeah, that's me." Though, it wasn't a flare up, an amused laugh riddled through his words as he said them. "Anni." The name rolled off his tongue. If he could repeat it over and over, he would. But that would be a little too weird, even for him. He couldn't seem to make the conversation himself, so there was a small pause. The woman had to speak up again.

"Were you wanting to make an appointment?" Oh, god, did he. "I'm sorry, my hours aren't until... well, a lot later than this. You caught me in the beginnings of my beauty sleep."

"I-- ah-- I just wanted to... I can do..." A fucking fool! Couldn't stay on the phone without stuttering every goddamn word? "What time is good for you?"

The giggles that rang in his ears had him closing his eyes to relish the sound. Even over the phone she was absolutely enamouring. Did she know how she effected him? Did she do it with every man she met? Every man that she fucked? "Well, I had a very long night. If I get to sleep soon, I'll hopefully be up by four." Four? That was nearly ten hours from now! Did she sleep that long? "And of course, I'll need to get ready for you. What do you like?"

Oh, fuck. What did Arthur like? He liked women-- naked women, that much he was certain. But that wasn't really appropriate, now was it? It wasn't something that he could just say to someone, let alone a woman that was showing some interest in him. (But... would it... actually be inappropriate to her?) On top of that, he only knew what he liked from the porno magazines and occasional smutty film. And, fuck, that wasn't really... nice.

"I don't--- I don't really kn..." He trailed off instead of telling her how he would really, really like to have her pinned against a wall, bare throat in one hand while the other tangled tightly in her hair. How he would like to see ruby lipstick smeared on her face from how passionately he would kiss her. How he would like to spread her legs apart and force his throbbing cock inside her dripping cunt, making her beautiful moans resonate in his head like a song.

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" Though, her words broke him from his desires, it did nothing to help his twitching erection. Even the mere thought of admitting to her that he had never had the opportunity ( or confidence ) to have sex with anyone couldn't distract him enough to make him go flaccid.

"A long time." A lie. Surely, she could tell from how quietly he said it.

After looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother was still asleep, Arthur leaned against the kitchen counter and wiggled his hand through the waistband of the pajama pants he donned. Ten hours was going to be a long time for him to wait. And the sound of her humming in thought into the phone made his stroking so much more satisfying.

"Then I suppose I'll have to surprise you. Do you like surprises, Arthur?"

She said it. Again. His name from her mouth could have been enough if she said it enough times into his ear. The pace he was taking increased enough to cause a gratifying amount of friction, precum just beginning to lube up the tip of his cock. "I d-I do, yes." It was breathy. Was it obvious?

"Good. I'm good at surprises." Oh, she must have known. She was teasing him. "I can come to your place abou--"

"No, no, not my place." Fuck. Now was not the time to think about or mention his mother. Especially not the fact that he lived with her.

"Okay... A motel then? Downtown Gotham?"

"Perfect." No, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't his ideal place to fuck such an angelic woman but it seemed he had no other options.

"Meet me there at seven o'clock." Seven? Seven o'clock? PM? Nearly twelve whole hours from now? A jagged exhale kept him from being too obviously disappointed at how long he had to wait. Never before had he ever been so impatient. Maybe the fact that he was so close to getting off made it worse than it would have been had he not started to masturbate while on the phone. "Don't be early. Don't be late."

"I will-- I mean, I won't."

With one last, sultry giggle, Anni hummed, "See you later, _Arthur_." And after that last goodbye, he slammed down the phone, it's high pitched clash echoing through the kitchen once again. It wasn't loud enough to cover up the laughs that exploded from his mouth as he, himself, exploded into his pants.

At least, now he could busy himself for the next few hours by going to the laundromat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is a nasty man, change my mind. Hope it was alright. I expected to do a little bit more in this chapter but I shall save it for the next. I'm noticing I tend to only write at night so I get super sloppy and careless, so I apologize if it's too distracting. I appreciate the feedback I've been getting immensely! I didn't really expect anyone to like it so it makes me feel really nice to see that a few of you did. ^.^ I have a specific story in mind for these two even though this chapter doesn't make it seem like it. It'll get ( hopefully) more enjoyable for you guys once I get the characters interacting and bloody.


	3. Chapter 3

"The usual room, Anni?" Asked the hunched, balding, chubby man behind the counter. He was used to seeing her in here, and even gave her a specific room for her business. Nice of him, though he'd tell her it was only because Woody liked her. After all, guys like him didn't stand a chance with a woman like her. 

Anni came closer to the counter, a warm smile on her face as she leaned against it. "Of course, Arnie. How's Woody today?" Her eyes glanced over to see a dummy sitting on its own chair, staring blankly back at her. As unsettling as it was, Anni had grown used to the doll's presence as she checked in when she had clients to take care of. Occasionally, Arnold would only speak through the dummy, and he would be much more flirtatious than the man would ever normally be, deepening his voice from the very mousy and timid way he usually spoke. But it wasn't him, he would insist, it _was_ Woody. The dummy with a mind of his own, he just needed Arnold to move his mouth for him. Anni always entertained the idea to keep things civil between the two of them.   


The man turned back to the doll for a moment, looking in its direction. "He's a bit moody today," replied Arnold as he turned back to the woman, the key to her room in his hand. "I'm sure he's glad to see you, though."   


"I'm flattered." She reached out and grabbed the familiar key, laying the man a hundred dollar bill on the counter before she walked away. "See you boys later."  


The door closed behind her and she was greeted with the frigid wind outside. There was no awning or columns outside of the motel's reception area to shield her from it. It was just a sad little building with other sad little buildings where people fucked and got high beside it. It was sad. The city was sad. To an extent, that could be why Anni felt so at home there, amongst the flickering neon signs and blaring sirens following people shouting. Familiarity.   


With a sigh, pale hands reached into the pocket of her coat for a carton of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between her lips. Just as she was about to light it, the scrawny man she was meeting appeared at the end of the sidewalk, illuminated only by the streetlamp and faintly by the neon signs. The first noticeable thing she could see was that he wasn't wearing his clown attire. Of course he wasn't, but she wasn't exactly sure what to expect of his appearance since their first meeting, other than his strikingly thin figure. Instead, as he came closer, she noticed dark slacks that looked at least one size too large for his body, and a khaki coat that was at least two sizes too large. All seemed worn out as if he had had them for years and years and never went to get anything new. Probably hadn't, really. In his hands, she could see a bouquet of red roses. 

So far, everything about him made her want to laugh. Maybe he just had that effect on people, seeing that he worked as a party clown, but he was just so... _desperate_. From the endless calls earlier to the roses in his hand. _Awkward_ was another good word to describe him. How he walked, how his knees looked like they didn't bend as he sped up just a bit to get to her sooner, how he limped a little as he did so, how he reeked of cheap cologne. His eyes met hers only once before he cast them downward to the roses he had before he timidly outstretched his hand to her. 

"Are these for me?" Anni asked with a flattered smile, allowing the transfer of flowers into her own empty hand. Of course, she knew they were. But she wanted to see him nod his head, and hopefully say something to her. 

"Y--yeah," stuttered the man, keeping his eyes down. "I, uh, I hope they're okay." 

"They're perfect." A lie. They weren't perfect roses. They likely were discounted, due to some of them already noticeably wilting. But the sentiment was rather cute. The poor man probably had never been on a date before, let alone hired a hooker. She could only imagine how silly it might have looked for such a stressed looking man buying sad roses and condoms at some convenient store. It made it a little easier to genuinely smile. "Come on."  


With a nod of her head, after placing her unlit cigarette back into her pocket, she led the man to the motel room reserved for her. Room number 14. It was one of the only rooms that still had a properly hanging number on it, instead of a slightly rusty outline where a number should be. Nothing about that made her feel any better about the room. So stereotypical of a motel-- the yellowed light, disgustingly mute floral comforters, deep red carpet, and wallpaper that was slightly peeling in the corners of the room. The only bright side was that it didn't smell like piss.   


As the door shut behind the scrawny man, Anni wasted zero time in shedding herself of her coat, baring her sleeveless green dress without distraction, and setting it with the bouquet of roses on the wooden table against the wall. The funny thing, though, was that when she turned to Arthur, he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were, again, cast down at his feet. Part of her was slightly annoyed by it, as she was having to try just a bit harder to do her job that should have been easy. But-- instead of allowing her annoyance to ruin the night, she forced up another smile and a very light, almost inaudible, hum of amusement. "Are you nervous?"

** *****

Was he_ nervous_?

  
That got a short and quiet chuckle out of him. To avoid staring, his eyes were constantly moving back and forth from looking at her to the dark colored, nylon carpet beneath them, occasionally darting around the room enough to learn his environment. Now that his hands were no longer gripping bunched up rose stems, his calloused thumbs and jagged, bitten-off fingernails dug into the palms of his hands to keep him from nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Part of him felt like a child who had just got caught using mommy's nice, expensive makeup and was about to get in a lot of trouble for it. The other part of him felt like... well, he wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. Excitement, for sure. But it was more than just that. More than the feeling he got while sneaking into adult movie theaters to watch some bimbo pretend to be a guy's sister while they fucked. It was like an animal that had been caged its whole life finally stepping out into the wild. It felt right, but _intimidating. She was intimidating. _

And she was stripping. 

The green dress that was barely hiding any skin had already fallen to floor at her feet, revealing nothing more than beautiful skin adorned in black lingerie that made all the blood rush to his lower body and a gulp catch in his throat. 

"You don't have to be nervous." Her voice was so comforting, and yet, so erotic. She kicked the dress away from her path and advanced closer to him. The close proximity and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. Slender hands slid up his arms and rested on his shoulders. "Relax. You're in charge. We'll do whatever you want to do." 

He was sure it wasn't her words or her alluring figure, but rather, her confidence that made him feel a little more comfortable. He gave a small nod and stood up a little straighter, allowing her to remove his worn out jacket from his bony frame. Placing the jacket next to her own on the wooden table, she gestured for him to have a seat on the bed. And, of course, he did. It wasn't comfortable, but clearly used as it sunk more than any other stiff motel bed ever would. The woman stood in front of him. 

Gray, sunken eyes fixated on her, and he did his best to not keep them on her breasts. "You're going to have to tell me what you want, Arthur. Or I'm going to have to decide for you." Her voice, though he adored it, had a bit of sterness to it. He kind of liked it. 

"I, uh--" Arthur cleared his throat, "I think I'd like you to decide for me." 

A smirk appeared across the woman's lips, and Arthur couldn't help but mirror it. It was contagious, her attitude. The dominating air she had was something he did, truly, find sexy. It sort of surprised him, how willing he was to give her control. He had always imagined his first time would have been more of... well... the opposite. Every fantasy he had ever had involved him being the one in control-- the one who called the shots. But, then again, he had never imagined he would share his first with a woman who had been as experienced as she had. 

And she clearly had some experience in being in charge.

"Take off your pants," she commanded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I really did just not update for like 3 months just to leave y'all on a shitty smut cliffhanger. Anyways, thank you for the kudos and comments! Sorry for the absolute disappearance and lack of updating anything worth while. I had 2 new hyperfixation and fanfic ideas that I was working on and are just like. Sitting in my computer documents and idk I may publish them eventually. Don't know when I'll get to the next chapter but it is gonna be smutty and some like. Backstory for Anni??? Maybe???


End file.
